Really, you all might want to stay away from the Kilbuck township leaders because they are currently such a massive vacuum of suck that your head might implode … or explode. PittGirl does not claim to be an expert on the effects on the human body when in close proximity to a vacuum of suck.

Did I say they suck? Oh, they suck.

Kilbuck, as you might recall, is that awesome part of the city where the hill keeps falling onto Route 65. The hill, I should add, upon which they hope to build a Wal-Mart. I’m thinking if the hill can’t hold AIR, I don’t see how it is EVER going to hold a Wal-Mart.

I digress.

Yesterday was a town meeting in which the townspeople were hoping to basically flay the township leaders for their part in this fiasco. And they totally had a part because they gave lots of exemptions to the developer. One of those exemptions, I’m pretty sure, was the one that says “The building site must not fall down onto Route 65 every time it rains.”

The Kilbuck supervisors walked into the room, told everyone they weren’t allowed to talk or ask questions, read a statement and that was that.

The hell?

Mr. Frew read a prepared statement in which he characterized the landslide as an “unfortunate event,” said township officials weren’t responsible for it and generally defended the actions of the township’s supervisors, engineer and solicitor in issuing the permits and slope grading variances that allowed such a steep-sided development project on the old Dixmont State Hospital property.

An “unfortunate event” is when I run out of my Prescriptives mascara, or when I run over a pigeon with my car (snicker) or when my dog jumps up on me with wet dirty paws right before I run out the door. What has happened two times at Kilbuck wasn’t an unfortunate event. It was Mother Nature kicking them in the teeth and then kneeing them in the huevos.

What is the point of a public town meeting if you aren’t going to let anyone talk? Oh, was it to prove how much you suck? Mission accomplished. You’ve been named the next Annoying Burghers … your crowns are in the mail and by crowns I mean your leaking bags of pigeon poop.